Not affraid

As flickers of sunlight broke the darkness that engulfed the night, violent clatters from an alarm clock shot up towards a clammy ceiling. The plumbing neglected, as water droplets congregated to form falling beads, splashing upon landing on the timber base. Random frames were suspended on a creamy texture, the cracks weakening the vertical foundations. A sizeable mirror, attacked by fingerprints, was positioned a few feet away from a torn up futon. A murky figure plagued the smudged glass; the facial features remained hidden, as the shadows were still an inhabitant of the early hours. The land of dreams was still profoundly populated, but Michael Fence was ready to abandon the fantasy world and battle through the fire and brimstone, the hell, that made up his life…..

Blurred headlights whizzed past him, the frosty air chilling his breathing organs, the occasional cough the affects of the icy atmosphere. Winter was muscling its way into the heavens above, ready to unleash its glacial weapons to the mortals who walked the earth’s shell. The Sun was still evident, but its beams were chilled before they could inject warmth into the freezing communities. Scarfs were tightly secured around collars, headwear covered the manes of attractive women, and additional garments made the fit look like they had indulged. The cold in a physical form however, shrivelled in comparison to the cold which kept Michael’s heart beating. His emotions had been conquered by the sorrow that now existed, as he had become a human being that was now expendable. If the reaper had come searching for his soul, there would be no one to try and fight him off. No one to shed tears if he succeeded, as Michael was a recluse, dead the to world……

Suits and ties, briefcases, polished footwear and the smug expressions which accompanied the material substance, it was all too common. Michael found glimpses of emotion, as rage would threaten to grip his actions, but would be eventually be buried beneath the ever-growing grief. Projected tones, gossip, orders being barked, the normal jingle that was thrown around an administrative centre, it was put on mute. Mouths moving, but deaf to the words, Michael was caught in an environment which had utterly drained him. He sat, vision fixed on the indistinct images digitally created which floated on his screen. Handsets remained unanswered, masses of documents were swallowing his desk, so justifiably it was only a matter of time….. he was fired.

As the tyres screeched, almost a scream for aid, the untamed driving had Michael pulsating. The speed gauge was frequently being pushed, the cherry numbers being worked even though inserted as a gimmick, as the age of his cargo was never intended to push velocity barriers. The brake pedal was stomped, black rubber embedded itself into the tar below, while Michael’s snout became victim to the forward propulsion. The driver’s door creaked ajar, sufficient room for an exit, as blood dribbled onto the worn shoes enclosing his feet. Stagnant footsteps brought him closer to the brink that was the mountain, where he was now positioned at the summit. The sun was departing into the horizontal contour cutting the radiance from the day, while at the same time welcoming dusk. Tears of agony fell to the arid earth, as his eyelids closed fetching him death’s cousin for the last time. A sense of tranquillity overcame him as he stepped out onto the oxygen, with void assurances it would snag him. His descent, the happiest moment in his tortured existence, was peaceful. He had escaped the planet, he was joyful…………resting in eternal gloom.

Journal Comments

  • Whirligig
  • Ghost Writer